


Everything You're Trying to Say

by panwonderland



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panwonderland/pseuds/panwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Bradley were rational about it, he'd be able to say, oh it is understandable, you were stuck in this fantasy life for six years, lost all your connections to your outside normal world, and it's like those statistics about boys in boarding schools and whatnot. It was probably Colin's fault anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything You're Trying to Say

 

If Bradley were rational about it, he'd be able to say, oh it _is_ understandable, you were stuck in this fantasy life for six years, lost all your connections to your outside normal world, and it's like those statistics about boys in boarding schools and whatnot. It was probably Colin's fault anyway. Being so... foreign... in every sense of the word, made it harder to categorize and push neatly into boxes: lover, friend, brother, father, etc.

Bradley was a black or white kind of guy, and this,  _this_ stampede of emotions just made for a very non black and white experience. Colin didn't treat him like just one of his mates and didnt treat him like anything else either. Bradley had no frame of reference on that spectrum, which drove him mad. 

Being in France always made the experience more extreme. It was the countryside in bloody France. Summer, green lush riverbanks full of strolling couples and tiny cafes with bright red and blue umbrellas. For fuck's sake, they were half living in a castle.

 _Are you happy, Col?_ he asked one late afternoon in the first year in France, just as a pack of ducks wandered close to Colin's bread laden hands by the river. They were sitting side by side on the grass. Colin barely hummed and threw bread crumbs into the lake. The ducks gathered around him like he was Mother Goose. Bradley waited for an answer but all he got was a brilliant smile. Bradley squinted at him like he was the bloody sun.

 _Because I am, I really am. I thought I'd be mostly nervous, but so far it has only been spectacular, hasn't it?_  He tried, thinking if he shared, maybe Colin might share too.

 _It's pretty great_ , was Colin's quiet answer.

 _You know, I can tell you're thinking so hard you might crack the ground. Just enjoy it, can't you?_  Because Colin was working too hard, he deserved a break.

 _I'm enjoying it now_ , he said and bumped Bradley's knee with his. The unspoken _with you_ hung around them, trembling, and Bradley didn't know what to make of it, if it meant something more or if it was just Colin's strange wonderful mind.

 

In the second year, Bradley sometimes felt like he was nursing some severe hero crush on Colin, while Colin didnt give a damn. Like Colin was out of his league. He had seen the type of guys Colin went for. And even those thoughts, in and out of themselves were pretty insane. Because he wouldn't give in to the stupid greying of boundaries that the entire world tried to coerce on their friendship. And there was no need, because Bradley was the first person who'd admit to himself if he was indeed attracted to Colin, but he wasn't. Like that song Colin liked, brothers on a hotel bed, exactly like that.

 

In the third year, things shifted towards a more normal frameset. There was Georgia, and Colin stayed clear of his love life and wouldn't even talk to him about it, other than just acknowledging that Georgia was a fact. But then filming ended, and Georgia wasn't a fact anymore, and facts were a muddled incoherent thing when he cried against the kitchen counter of his London flat and Colin's arms were a solid warmth around him.

It made them grow closer, Colin even shared some heartbreaks of his own ( _he fucked me up_ Colin said, and Bradley couldn't help wondering if he meant literally or just in general and imagining it like you would imagine someone throwing up, your mind dumping the image on you, you being helpless to push it off, and then wondering if Colin was imagining Georgia fucking Bradley up as well), so close that even during the Sacred Time Off, they travelled together to the States. 

Neil was open and laid back and would answer questions straight forwardly. In fact, the only resemblance was the eyes and the propensity to get pissed drunk in record time. He knew where he stood with Neil, it wasn't even a question. Neil was his mate's brother and that was all.

Bradley's dad was a bit more complicated. Colin was the epitome of politeness, and that gentleness coupled with his father's unspoken opinions that all actors are basically gay as the job they chose to do, coupled with _what does your dad do, Colin? My dad is a decorator_ and the look, _the look_ on his father's face, well, Bradley felt guilty to even be there.

As he lay awake that night in his childhood bed, he heard the door open quietly and then Colin was lying by his side, full of words for a change, like _you can't let him get to you like that_ and _you're not the boy he left behind anymore_ and _BNradley,_  like a slow caress from head to toe on that narrow bed. He felt confused then, truly and utterly confused by Colin's pleading warm body.

He let the feeling wash over him, what if we kiss, would that make me nauseous or will it feel good, is this even friend territory anymore, can I go back to where I was before, and then Colin laughed at him in that low deep voice he used when sharing gossip, _are you even breathing, seems like you're not._ Helaughed along, watching Colin's Adam's apple bobbing up and down like a reminder of the real truth.

Bradley then brushed his lips to Colin's in the dark, the feeling so plump and soft, he immediately knew he wouldn't be able to spin away.  _Don't, hey... don't..._ Colin murmured and Bradley let out the breath he wasn't aware of holding. Colin got up, ruffled his hair gently and walked back to the guest room.

Alarm bells and question marks floated in Bradley's head, his body shaking, until he heard the text alert, opened his phone and read _because you're vulnerable and reeling and it doesn't mean anything, I could've been anyone_. And it figures Colin would only finally answer a question when it wasn't even fucking uttered. Bradley stared at the words, deleted all his possible replies ( _come back and let me press myself against you_ or  _you've never been anyone_ or  _love you in any form imaginable_ which he only wrote to get the words out of his brain), and fell asleep eventually.

But that moment passed as well, and as they went back to work, Bradley knew Colin was right, because now he looked at him and only saw the ridiculousness he would've felt if he acted on it. Colin was a guy, a hairy gangly guy, and even if a kiss would've been alright, he'd never really be able to take it further and that wasn't fair to Colin before anyone else.

Something opened up in Colin then, as if he realized he had to ease up on the flirting and touching because Bradley might take it the wrong way, so he was going out of his way to be a bloke-y bloke in the best sense, which made Bradley's life so much easier.

Life with _Colin_ anyway, because otherwise life was pretty fucked up, what with Georgia and her long distance something he needed and she was willing to give on a hugely partial basis, and the sheer frustration with the idiotic way in which his Arthur was written, and the terror that if he couldn't get his polite shit together he'll just never work in this town again and a football player he wasn't and oh, was he happy? He wasn't so sure.

And then it was the fifth year, the last time in France, last time in the woods, many last times. The nostalgia addled romanticism made for a very last year of high school we'll be best friends forever experience. Bradley and Colin were working day and night, barely had any time to even think, and just like that they were suddenly filming Arthur's dying scenes.

Sometimes, you see emotional scenes on the page and with your experience as an actor you know you will really need to be in the moment there because it won't happen naturally. Sets are busy places, technical places. Emotions do not just happen.

But for these scenes, suddenly it was just them and the bare minimum of crew, cross shot, as Justin knew in order to get the absolute best out of his actors, he'd need them to feel it. And he'd seen Colin cry a million times before, but had also seen him get up, smile and move on. Because Colin was made of steel. You could pelt him with any challenge and he'd rise to it and come up unscathed and a better man, not to mention a better actor. On that day though, Colin was... for lack of a better word, a trainwreck. Trembling hands and runny nose, he was shouting in Bradley's ear too loud and then not loud enough, and sure, all Bradley had to do was look half dead, but still, _still_.

Justin called for a break and the crew dispersed and tried to give them some privacy and space to get their shit together. Colin sat cross legged on the grass and cried into his hands, ugly, like a girl, like literally someone died. Bradley sat across from him, the chainmail digging into his belly and shoulders and whenever he tried to lean closer it would squeak in a funny way so he stopped trying. And then Colin looked up with his tear stricken face, and Bradley's expression must have been funny because he started laughing and then Bradley was laughing along just for the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

"Not that I'm complaining because at least you stopped crying, but what's so funny Col?"

Colin wiped his blotchy face with his sleeve and said, "just... you looked so helpless, like I was a bomb you were trying to diffuse and I could see your mind going like, do I pull the red wire or the blue which is exactly why I'm... I mean, fuck, Bradley, you and your creaky chainmail..."

Something clicked in Bradley's brain like giant cogwheels muttering _it is fucking black or white, it is_. He put his hand over Colin's trembling one and murmured, _ready to do this?_ To which Colin just smiled and tugged him and his creaky chainmail up.

Shooting restarted, and then Colin was looking at him with those big blue eyes and a little bittersweet smile which Bradley was sure they'd yell cut for, but they didn't. He had never been more Arthur saying goodbye to his Merlin than in that moment. When Colin whispered suddenly,  _stay with me,_ he was confused and wanted to open his eyes because it wasn't in the script and fucking hell, that was just Colin, crazy Colin just spitting it out in front of everybody. But two seconds passed and no one yelled cut, so he opted to stay dead.

 _Cut,_ the word was uttered reverently almost. _We've got it guys, that was great_ came, Justin's calm words, and only then Bradley opened his eyes.

Colin was smiling at him through tearful eyes, almost like he was some sort of miracle. His heart clenched in his chest and Colin was pushed to _that box_ neatly, no edges left outside. The crew started rolling back the cables around them and it broke Bradley's train of thought.

They were alone on the shuttle back to the apartment. In the back bench Colin was quiet and staring out the window, so Bradley let him be, knowing he needed his space now. He made a move to get up and talk to the driver about last night's game, but then Colin grabbed his wrist and pulled him down again. Colin threaded his fingers through Bradley's wordlessly, staring at them as if they weren't his own. As if he didn't have the nerve to look at Bradley, so he settled for a representation.

Going up the stairs to the apartment they shared for years now, the enormity of it all hit Bradley. There was no black and white really, they were living together and they were best friends and when he thought of Colin he thought of _Colin_ and the way he'd say his name or the dimple in the corner of his mouth and the clench in his heart and waking up in his bed in France, lying side by side in his childhood bed, bumping knees on the riverbank or sitting next to him in the theater in the dark, the heat of his long crooked fingers on Bradley's face and his _stay with me_ and all of that made up who they were and it wasn't just that one thing, lover, or that one thing, best mate.

He was fumbling with the key, hands sweating and shaking as Colin pushed inside and said _just... breathe_. And then the door was closed behind him and he was as scared as the first time on the football field, out of his league and small. Colin dropped his bag on the floor and walked to the kitchen. Bradley followed dutifully. He watched Colin fill two glasses with water and hand one to him. Bradley drank it all in one big gulp, feeling the water cool his insides.

 _You look like you're about to jump off a cliff, and it's... dumb, isn't it? It's just... us. It shouldn't be that frightening_. And for anyone on this planet Colin is the epitome of adorable and harmless but for Bradley he's always been pretty frightening. Colin frowns and runs shaky hands through his lovely hair.

 _Say something for fuck's sake,_ and oh yeah, now would be the time to smile instead of answer but Bradley bites his lips raw and leans over the counter between them. Colin mimics him and leans as well, almost like a photo negative image, dark vs. blond, pale vs. tan. Colin lifts his palm to Bradley's face and drag him closer to his mouth, a bit too rough, too much of a reminder that he's not a girl, but then it's just those lips and that tongue and Colin knows exactly what he wants and he sighs into Bradley's open starving mouth so tragically, that Bradley has to laugh, has to break the terribly dramatic thing Colin's got going on there.

"What? why are you laughing? Fuck off!" Colin pretends to be insulted but he laughs right along and Bradley feels for the first time in six years like he's got to the man inside, under the Actor, under the Artist, under the control freak, right through to Colin.

"Was just wondering if you were listening for the cut there, Colin". And it's worth it for the raised eyebrow. Colin walks around the counter and stands so close to Bradley, he can feel the heat emanating from his chest, smell the sweat off his long neck, watch his nipples go hard under the thin-thin grey cotton t-shirt. He can almost imagine the feeling, that sensitivity, so he runs his fingers on them through the t-shirt, fascinated to find Colin does have some meat on those bones. He pulls Colin's arms around him and tastes the salty skin of his neck, first with his lips, then with teeth and tongue, and it's all worth it to hear Colin murmur in that low low bedroom voice of his, _oh you're a wicked bastard, fuck..._ and he accentuates that last  _k_ the way he does when he's insecure, its almost like he's whining, and well... yes.

On the one hand, Colin has got one posessive palm in his hair and he pulls and owns and makes Bradley feel weak in the knees. On the other hand, it makes him laugh that Colin is so silent most of time but so noisy when he's turned on. Bradley pulls away slowly, his eyes twinkling, watching colin just... raw with need and finds that he likes to see that, likes that he can have that effect on someone, that Colin isn't pretending to be cool about it at all. But with all his newfound courage he doesn't think he can take it further than that tonight, not this sober and emotional from the day's work.

"Ok... alright Bradley, alright. Gonna pick myself up and pace it. I understand..." And he always does, always reads his mind.

"Lets, just, have some dinner and tv, just something normal because let me tell you, I have had the weirdest fucking day of my life and I have these thoughts like I just want to be all over you and I'm not sure if it's me or not, I've never licked stubble in my life, mate..." This makes Colin snort and pull farther away, to give him the space he so obviously needs, but not before he mumbles, "stubblelicker" and earns a shove from Bradley.

"Gonna take a shower, then I'll cook us something", Colin says and Bradley really fights the urge to make some innuendo about the very high probability of him wanking off in the shower, but then figures he better not because fucking hell, he'd be wanking to Bradley.

"I'll hop in after you", he says and Colin nods. Walks away. He turns the tv and the lights on, just for some normality. He watches a news report about taxes and it must be so boring that the next time he wakes up he's in bed and it's morning. He doesn't even remember falling asleep, not to mention getting into bed. He turns to look at the time on his phone and spots a little note in Colin's handwriting.

_You fell asleep, hope you don't mind me not waking you up for supper, you seemed knackered. Went for a swim. Leftovers in the oven._

Bradley lies back and smiles. It's already half past ten, but he has Friday through Sunday off. He's thinking of catching the train to London, but the temptation to do nothing but lie in bed all weekend is huge. He thinks back on yesterday, and while the whole shoot's emotional buldozing has mostly subsided, the taste and feel of Colin's warm body against his hasn't, not even one bit.

He lets himself imagine Colin in bed with him, just the parts of him that aren't scary, doesn't go into details yet, just his mouth and eyes and his funny hot reactions, like he's so sensitive to every touch, he might burst into flames. He then imagines Colin doing the fire spell on set, and it makes him laugh so hard, he laughs through his orgasm.

In the shower, he tries to calm his heart and thinks how ridiculous they are to want each other but wank off alone in the same apartment. When he turns the water off he hears loud music and Colin's attempts at singing along even louder. He joins Colin in the living room, watches him mouthing the lyrics and jumping along to the music, distortion so loud, it feels like his brain is leaking out. Bradley turns the volume down a bit, laughing, and walks towards the kitchen but then Colin jumps on his back like a monkey, says "morning, granny".

"Off my back you sloth" Bradley says in mock annoyance. It's a mock annoyance because his smile is gonna split his face in two. "Who listens to Garbage nowadays, Col?" but it's pointless because Colin backs away and sings along _stupid giiiiiiiirl, all you had you wasted, you stupid girl._

It's so ridiculous and so Colin, such a normal Morgan weekend behavior that it doesn't really register at first, but then Colin presses his nose up against bradley's ear and murmurs, _all you had you wasted_ and Bradley blinks once, twice and turns into Colin, kissing him soundly and fervently. Because it's just so Colin to put it in music, and he's never been anything but polite and reserved and this is the most Bradley is going to hear from him about Georgia but it's worth it to feel like Colin thinks he's won over her.

Because Bradley rarely thinks he's a catch, much less someone's victory. Much less a worthy victory for Colin, who walks into any pub in London with his stupid hats and tall lankiness and has got all eyes on him, all wanting to be his next victory. 

Colin's fingers press into his jaw and smell like chlorine, his lips drag on Bradley's cheek and his hips very bluntly push Bradley against the kitchen counter. There's no gentleness or hesitation and it should frighten Bradley but it doesn't. 

"I couldn't fall sleep at all last night, was thinking of you in your bed, like a good little boy and I just wanted to crawl under your blanket and fucking swallow you whole..." Colin's voice is heavy and low, and Bradley is nodding for no reason, says between kisses, "alright, alright let's try you on for size", because well, what else is there?

Bradley turns off the music and pushes Colin towards his bedroom, the blinds still shut and he can still smell his morning wank in the air (probably Colin can't, though he wishes he would). In the silence and the dark, Bradley traps Colin's shoulders between his thighs, runs dry palms through his hair and tries unsuccessfuly to shove him away when he comes. He's trying to get breath back in his lungs when Colin flops on him like a big log, laughing as he wipes his mouth. He makes for a wicked filthy picture, made even filthier when he rubs his erection between Bradley's sweaty thighs, and Bradley feels like a spent toy. When he comes, his forehead against Bradley's, his sighs reverberate through the room, a slow staccato obscenely timed with the spurts Bradley feels on his balls and between his ass cheeks.

"Sorry", Colin mumbles but he's beautiful and smiling and Bradley doesn't mind the odd feeling, rather feels used in the best sense of the word, clean of thoughts and worries and well, post-orgasmic. He bites his lips and Colin stares at him like he did yesterday, but this time his eyes are open and he can _see_.

* * * 

It takes Bradley countless hours to make the prizes in the for the wrap party. By the end, he's exhausted and not too sure it was such a good idea. But as he reads each person's *achievements* and hands over their cards, the enthusiastic reactions make him feel more confident. He needs that confidence for Colin's prize, so... good.

His hands are shaking a bit as he holds the prize, and he clears his throat twice.

"The last but not least prize of the evening goes to that guy over there-", he points and Colin goes all red, to the tips of his ears, and it might be the beer but he doesn't think so. Everyone claps enthusiastically, of course Colin is unanimously adored.

Bradley begins to read the card even though he knows it by heart. "This prize is awarded for several things: one is outstanding achievement in insane imagination skills, as you all know by now the familiar sight of Colin screaming his little lungs out at tennis balls on sticks, right?" some people nod and toast in Colin's direction. Colin smiles toothily. "two is the merit of sainthood, due to coughing up internal organs just to end scenes and losing his temper only... oh, I dont know, once or twice in the span of five years. And three, the last one, is for outstanding achievement in patience for Bradley James, not a lot of people have such high tolerance for peripheral noise and I am forever grateful you are one of them, Colin". Everyone claps again, some people whistle. "Come on up, Col".

Colin mouths _I hate you_ , and comes up slowly. Bradley hands over the trophy and card while the crew begins to chant _SPEECH SPEECH SPEECH._ Colin doesn't look at the crowd though, he looks at Bradley. "Em... cheers Bradley and, em..." and then proceeds to grabs his waist with his free arm and give him a serious snog.

At first everyone is laughing, thinking it's just a prank, but when the kiss ends softly, lovingly, the crowd goes quiet for two excruciating seconds. And then Katie yells, "Merthur justice!" which brings back the clapping and laughing.

The music comes back on and they make their way off the stage. Surprisingly, their workmates let them be, maybe unsure how to tackle this new development, but for that Bradley is grateful.

"I can't believe you just did that!" he tells Colin with a shaky voice.

"So... the answer is yes..." Bradley is confused and probably shows it, so Colin explains. "You asked by the river in Pierrefonds, remember? If I'm happy?"

"What, 5 years ago?... Oh, and you're answering now?"

Colin nods, his eyes, as always, saying everything Bradley needs to know. And he guesses he is too.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> title is taken from Mumford & Sons "Believe". really suck at titles. really.


End file.
